Inaccessible Light?

Early in Eucharistic Prayer D in the Episcopal Book if Common Prayer, we find these curious words: “dwelling in light inaccessible.” I’m trying to recall where there is any other reference to this beautifully poetic representation of where God the Father dwells. And where is this light which we can’t access? It must be somewhere in the spiritual domain, since we’ve explored enough space to rule it out in the physically observable universe[s]. Then we have to wonder, given such a magnificent image, how we can call this exalted personage “Daddy,” as Jesus suggests. Trying to reconcile this mystery is more that my puny mind can manage. Can it all be true? How?

If you knew...

Brennan Manning, a great evangelist/priest, used to ask this: if you knew a man who had the answers to the most important questions governing your entire life, who held the keys to your personal happiness both now and forever, who decided where you’d spend eternity, and who loved you more than anyone else ever could—enough to die for you—do you suppose you’d be inclined to spend time with him, to discover what He wanted for you, to try to get inside his head, so to speak—to develop a friendship with him? Wouldn’t you be insane not to? Well… In fact, if you really believed this, wouldn’t you be faced with another conundrum: either God is everything or He is nothing; do you care?

Who Do You Say that I Am?

“Who do you say that I am?” Jesus asks Peter, and us, in Matthew 16—arguably the most important question we'll ever be asked to answer. Have you ever figured out who Jesus is to you—what you expect of him? If you’ve decided to develop a personal relationship with him, he’s your friend [John 15:15]. If you’ve chosen him as your king [Matthew 2:2], you must bow to his majesty. If you understand that He will eventually be judging us [James 5:9], you try to meet his minimal requirements so that you’ll get into heaven. Or maybe, for that function, you rely on his being the Shepherd or the Gate [John 10:11 and 7]. We have built countless chapels, churches, and cathedrals, designed numerous liturgies and composed many a hymn, all to honor and glorify him. Yet if we search the New Testament, no where does He even suggest that we should worship him. His emphasis, his commands, are always to worship his Father. What kind of puzzle does this present? Who is He? More critical, who do YOU say that He is? How important is that to you?

Coequality?

Early in my Christian upbringing I learned that the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit were “coequal” [as well as coeternal]. When I Googled it, I found an exquisite apology of the coequality of the three persons of the Trinity in the creed of St. Athanasius, dated 1642. There is also a statement affirming this in the preface for Trinity Sunday on page 380 of our Book of Common Prayer. And a lengthy treatise in “Christianity Revealed” on the web tries to disprove coequality, with [to me] unconvincing success. But the grumblings persist; they’ve been debated by church officials for centuries. Based on what seems the traditional opinion that they are coequal, I’m curious: why isn’t there a colon after “God” in the beginning of both the Apostles’ and the Nicene creeds? Shouldn’t they proclaim the coequality by stating [Nicene] “We believe in one God: the Father, the Almighty, etc…” instead of “We believe in one God, the Father…” and similarly in the Apostles’ “I believe in God: the Father…” Of course, if you don’t believe that they’re equal, this is nonsense. Do you? Is it important?

Faith in...?

“Do you have faith” “ He’s a man/she’s a woman of faith.“ “ How strong is your faith?“ How many times have we heard—or said—these? When I hear or read about unqualified faith, I always expect to hear words leading to trust, which means the answers to two questions. 1: Faith in whom or in what? 2. Faith that whom or what will do what? Without this information, faith seems simply to hover in the air, unattached, non-productive. With it, faith seems solid and reliable. My faith is in God—I trust that He exists, that He loves me beyond my wildest dreams, and that He will make his perfect will happen in my life at a time that will turn out to be best for me. “He writes straight with crooked lines.” It’s that simple, and was carved out of almost ninety years’ experience learning about, then ignoring, and finally loving him. What about you?

God IN Us—Really?

We learned in our youth that “God is omnipresent, omniscient, and omnipotent” [is everywhere, knows everything, and can do anything]. But exactly what are we thinking with that first word? Is it the classic Celtic spirituality which tells us that He’s “above us, below us, beside us, behind us, before us”—that we’re surrounded by the Creator of the universe? Or is it much deeper—that God not only made all people and things, but that He is IN them and us—in stones and trees and flesh, in a real way? if so, is that strictly on the spiritual level, but possibly at the molecular level as well? After all, it’s known that the relative size of the space between the protons in the center of an atom and the electrons whirling around it is roughly the same as the space between the sun and its planets: what or who fills that void? Could He REALLY literally be in all things? Can we even begin to get our heads around all this? And what does it matter? Maybe, just maybe, spiritual truths and physical truths aren’t so far apart after all!

His Name

W Whether to call him Jesus or Christ—does it matter? Until I was 48, it didn’t matter a whit. I never gave it head room. Then I met him—in the hearts and actions of the men who ministered to me on a Cursillo weekend over 41 years ago, and I’ve never been the same. I call him Jesus because that’s his name. I know He loves me specifically and deeply. He has proven this over and over and over again. What a miracle! I began to realize that Christ is neither his last name, nor merely his title. It’s his incomprehensible aspect of the Divinity who not only was part of creating everything, but into whom Jesus the man grew as his human life matured. If I need to recognize his oneness with the Father, I’ll call him Christ Jesus or Jesus the Christ. But I prefer to relate to him as friend; that’s how He came to his compatriots, that’s how I met him, and that’s good enough for me!

What about Advent?

How clever of our theological forefathers to establish, in our church year, respectably long waiting periods [Advent & Lent] before the two most important holy days all year! They aren’t specified in the Bible, but how important they are in giving us breathing room to prepare our hearts and souls for the arrival, then the crucifixion, of our Savior. This Advent invites—nay, beckons—us to even more wonder of the miracle of Christmas. Fret not: NOBODY nor NOTHING—not even commercialism in all its forms—can take Christ out of Christmas. We won’t let them!

What about Epiphany?

The Rev. Tom Ehrich writes: “Faith has hopes and dreams, but faith has no control. Even the most ancient act of control—the naming of people and the naming of the created order—merely gives labels to things that will spin out of control.” In the face of that, do we dare to announce our faith by celebrating a whole season—Epiphany—dedicated to spreading the faith, proclaiming the good news? What good news? Not the birthing of a newborn in a barn, but his love and power when we the open our hearts to let him run our lives, an entirely different matter. Now that’s faith in spades! This is so huge, so important, that it leads naturally to telling others the good news, always and everywhere, not just a few weeks a year. Do we do this, or is Epiphany just another recurring ho-hum church season?

Dark Brown Feeling

A few decades ago I would often feel a particular emotional uncomfortable sensation which I described as “a dark brown feeling.” I had no clue how else to label it, nor what it meant; I only knew that I didn’t like it. I’ve since recognized this as an indicator of anxiety [which is always fear-based]. As the years passed and I began to appreciate how much God loves me personally, I noticed that I was experiencing many fewer dark brown episodes. When this became hard to ignore, I figured out why: if God REALLY loves me enough not only to die for me, but to have brought me through the challenges of a rocky life relatively unscathed, nothing anyone can say or do is anywhere near so important. I have NOTHING about which to be anxious! This was no ecclesiastical gobbledegook, but a real interiorization of the theological propositions which I’d been taught, but had only given lip service. Once this dawned on me, my life was forever changed!

Commanding God?

Are we spiritual puppeteers? Look at the words which we use in our worship services: “Give us this day our daily bread”...” Forgive us our trespasses”...“Sanctify them by your Holy Spirit”...”Heal the sick”...”Restore unto us...” Doesn’t it sound, by the words alone, that we’re giving God direct orders? And what about “Hear us, O Lord”...and “Lord, hear our prayer”? Don’t these words seem to instruct God to listen, not that we want him to respond to our petition? When you think about it, how should we address him? We call the pope “Your Holiness,” our president “Mr. President,” the queen of England “Your Majesty,” and her offspring “Your Royal Highness,” but God’s own Son calls him “Abba” [Aramaic for “Daddy”], and suggests that we do the same. Amazing! Getting back to petitioning Daddy, at the very least do you suppose it might be polite to say “please” or “if it be your will” to the Grand Architect of the Universe?

Praying

What happens when we pray? This has been debated by theologians and the rest of us for millenia. We like to believe that God hears us. If we offer prayers of praise or gratitude, all He has to do is hear us. If this gives us warm fuzzies, or a feeling of satisfaction for having done our duty, is that a worthwhile result in itself? However, if our prayers are petitions—asking him for something—and that something comes to pass, are we quick to give him the credit, or do we wonder if it might just be a coincidence? If what we ask for doesn’t happen, perhaps we try to figure out why not. Was He listening? Does He not care? Is He delaying his answer? Is He REALLY saying “no,” or ”later,” or nothing? How can we tell? After decades of anguished deliberation, I have concluded that the primary purpose of my prayer is to bring me closer to God, my will closer to his. If I’m looking for any other answer, whether or not my petition is answered my way is incidental. The closer I become to him [talking to him, listening for and to him, reading about him, thinking about him, sharing him, worshipping him], the more my will seems to align itself with his. THAT is the precious result of my praying, the golden secret of a happy life!

Communion of Saints

The Nicene Creed has been universally adopted as a concise statement of what we Christians have decided that we believe. Years later, at the Council of Trent, it was reduced in size and language, and the new statement is what we known as the Apostles’ Creed. In this version, however, was added a new concept: “We believe in the communion of saints.” I wonder how many times we proclaim these words without giving heed to what they really mean, or question whether or not we believe them. Do we take them literally, perhaps even picturing all the saints actually ingesting the body and blood with us? [My Florida friend Fr. Jim imagines a long table with us at this end, all the Christians over the centuries seated along the sides, and Jesus himself presiding at the far end—a powerful metaphor!]. Or are we convinced that, since we’re all in one family [it’s “Our Father,” not “My Father”], we automatically can converse with whomever we wish at any time? Or only at certain times and places? Or only in our imaginations—it’s just a convenient way to get over grief or loneliness? Or is it some weird theological construct by which we’re somehow loosely connected? One encyclopedia’s description is: The communion of saints is the spiritual solidarity which binds together the faithful on earth, the souls in purgatory, and the saints in heaven in the organic unity of the same mystical body under Christ its head. Now what on earth—or in heaven—does THAT mean to us?

Love God?

What does it mean to “love God”? When we apply “love” to humans, one accepted definition is that we desire his/her well-being over ours. That smacks of agape [unconditional], one of C.S. Lewis’s “Four Loves,” the others being eros [romance], phileo [friendship], and storge [affection]. But how can we wish things for God when He already is so immense and has created everything? Perhaps we need to rethink what loving God means. If He’s REALLY omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent, He can hardly need anything from us, although perhaps He’d like something–our esteem, our awe? Certainly our gratitude, if nothing else. I’ve heard teachings to that effect, but they don’t ring true for me. No, I believe that our learning to love God helps us, not him. It reassures us of his specific care for each of us. That He REALLY has our backs. How, I haven’t the faintest idea. But that He does, I have no doubt! How about you?

Death

We seem to be losing friends and relatives to death at an increasing rate. That leads me to reflect on how we treat death, the last inevitable event in our lives—NO exception. When I was nine, my beloved grandfather died. My parents didn’t tell me for days—they all just looked sad. I was not allowed to go to the funeral. Nobody talked about him. I felt cheated, but powerless. It was clear that even the mention of death was to be avoided. It must be a bad secret, unmentionable. It was forty years before I finally returned to the cemetery [oh, yes—I’d heard where they’d buried him], locate his grave, and finally felt some closure. Since then I’ve lost a mother, a father, a wife, a brother, a daughter, many friends, and many patients. The way I look at death has turned 180 degrees: since only Jesus has survived it, it must be part of God’s plan for me and you. This being self-evident, who are we to either question it or fear it? And if we believe we know where we’re going, why don’t we look forward to it with eager anticipation? No matter how spiritually sophisticated we want to seem, way down in our secret inner space where NOBODY is welcome, are we still little kids, scared to die, scared of death? Why?

In John 18:38, after Jesus explains to Pilate that his mission was to testify to the truth, the prelate asks what is perhaps the world’s most important question: “What is truth?” One can wonder if it is simply the absence of lies, or perhaps [as Jesus has earlier told us in “I am the way, the truth, and the life”], simply Jesus himself and all He stands or; or [as he promised in Jn 16:13] a description of the Holy Spirit. However, if one broadens one’s perspective, perhaps truth is the most important thing in one’s life at a particular time. For example: if one is being tortured, whether or not the earth is round fades into the distance: one’s truth becomes the importance of stopping the pain. If one has just found the love of his life, the debate between political parties’ claims on the truth are forgotten in the shadow of the larger truth that his future is about to change. My personal truth—that which is overwhelmingly important beyond all else in my life–is that Jesus loves me personally and has been and will be with me always no matter what. Is truth relative, depending on whose truth and under what circumstances? If unchangeable, hw can we determine it? Is it important? What is truth?

Close Encounter!

Talk about scary events! I had a brush with death recently which re-reminded me that life is unpredictably fragile, and that being aware that God’s in control is the most comforting fact one can know. Briefly, over several weeks I’d been growing increasingly short of breath—couldn’t walk across a room without puffing. Finally, a couple of scans showed that both lungs had been showered with small clots broken off most of the big veins in one leg. If they’d all moved at once, we would have had a celebration of my life, and a couple of newsletters and a blog would need new editors! My gratitude is boundless, my humility palpable, and my appreciation of my love/best friend/wife Betsy indescribable. Don’t ask me if there’s a God, or whether Jesus really loves me—I’m living proof! Not because the Bible tells me so, but because He has been telling me so—over and over and over—for over forty years!. I can’t help but wonder how many of us get the opportunity of becoming starkly aware of his irrational insatiable affection for each of us?

Obedience

Many years ago, at the final Eucharist of a healing and renewal conference with the Francis and Judith MacNutt in Rutland, VT, I was kneeling to receive the elements, deep in contemplation, staring at a life-sized crucifix which had been draped with roses. Then, in the eye of my mind, the roses became drops of blood dripping from our Lord’s wounds! Surprised [visions are NOT my cup of tea!], I asked him in my head, “Jesus, how could you willingly allow yourself to be tortured to death? How could you walk into such a painful suicide trap?” He simply answered, “because my Father asked me to!” Maybe that explains then second sentence in the prayer He taught us: ”Thy will be done.” He didn’t specify who was to do it, and up to then the question had never entered my head. That never-to-be-forgotten moment I knew I was being taught a life-long lesson in obedience. I’m still learning...

BEGOTTEN? When I was preparing to be confirmed in our Lutheran church at age 14, our class discussed and memorized the creeds. Our pastor tried to explain to us the meaning of “eternally begotten of the Father,” and “begotten, not made, of one being with the Father” in the Nicene creed. He told us that how Jesus “proceeded” from the Father was an unique process, never like any other. I don’t think any of us grasped it. I’m not sure, almost 3/4ths of a century and innumerable recitations later, that I’m much closer to grasping it. It certainly isn’t “giving birth to,” as in human reproduction, despite being of the same root as all the “begats” in the Authorized Version in the first chapter of St. Matthews’s Gospel. It can’t mean “cloning,” which implies absolute identicality. Could it mean something like “oozes from”? Or a “mirror image”? They don’t seem to fit either. And yet we continue to declare that we believe that inexplicable “begotten.” How can we even begin to understand it? Are we supposed to? Would it do us any good if we did?

Amends

In 40 years of twelve-step programs, psychotherapy, and Bible study, I’ve concluded what many of you might already know: making amends and asking for forgiveness takes a huge monkey off one’s back. Note: we’re NOT talking about forgiving [which also is for the primary benefit of the forgiver]; it’s the reverse thereof, and absolutely independent of whether the other party accepts my overture. [See Matthew 5:23-4]. It wasn’t until recently, however, that I discovered that becoming thankful for that relief—a conscious choice—eliminates resentments, which are dangerous, if not destructive. In fact, the choice of gratitude for the grace of being able to see my errors and request forgiveness clears my conscience and changes my outlook on practically everything else. It seems to put them all into a new perspective, and it certainly removes a block from my prayer life. How come we get so old soon and so smart late?

Belonging

When the magi rode camels over many hundreds of miles to find a baby, what were they seeking? Just to gaze upon an infant? Hardly! I believe they were searching for a relationship. During almost 40 years of twelve-step work, professional therapy, Bible study, and self-searching, one lesson has stood out for me: people are far more important than things. Why? Because they lead to relationships, which, if you’re lucky, give one that precious, most priceless gift, the feeling of belonging! I always knew I belonged to my parents, but never gave it much thought or value—took it for granted. Later I knew I belonged to my wife, but never analyzed it. When it came to Jesus, I had head-knowledge of his love for me, but it didn’t impact my daily living. Recently He’s let me in on this tremendous secret: I BELONG TO HIM, and him to me! No matter what happens, this truth is eternal. The same is true for my wife, my most valuable earthly connection, my best friend. The feeling—the certainty—of BELONGING is, at times, overwhelming. And I BELONG to my Church. I’m a vital part of other people’s lives. I never need to feel alone again. What a gift!

Relationships

When the magi rode camels over many hundreds of miles to find a baby, what were they seeking? Just to gaze upon an infant? Hardly! I believe they were searching for a relationship. During almost 40 years of twelve-step work, professional therapy, Bible study, and self-searching, one lesson has stood out for me: people are far more important than things. Why? Because they lead to relationships, which, if you’re lucky, give one that precious, most priceless gift, the feeling of belonging! I always knew I belonged to my parents, but never gave it much thought or value—took it for granted. Later I knew I belonged to my wife, but never analyzed it. When it came to Jesus, I had head-knowledge of his love for me, but it didn’t impact my daily living. Recently He’s let me in on this tremendous secret: I BELONG TO HIM, and him to me! No matter what happens, this truth is eternal. The same is true for my wife, my most valuable earthly connection, my best friend. The feeling—the certainty—of BELONGING is, at times, overwhelming. And I BELONG to my Church. I’m a vital part of other people’s lives. I never need to feel alone again. What a gift!

Relationships

When the magi rode camels over many hundreds of miles to find a baby, what were they seeking? Just to gaze upon an infant? Hardly! I believe they were searching for a relationship. During almost 40 years of twelve-step work, professional therapy, Bible study, and self-searching, one lesson has stood out for me: people are far more important than things. Why? Because they lead to relationships, which, if you’re lucky, give one that precious, most priceless gift, the feeling of belonging! I always knew I belonged to my parents, but never gave it much thought or value—took it for granted. Later I knew I belonged to my wife, but never analyzed it. When it came to Jesus, I had head-knowledge of his love for me, but it didn’t impact my daily living. Recently He’s let me in on this tremendous secret: I BELONG TO HIM, and him to me! No matter what happens, this truth is eternal. The same is true for my wife, my most valuable earthly connection, my best friend. The feeling—the certainty—of BELONGING is, at times, overwhelming. And I BELONG to my Church. I’m a vital part of other people’s lives. I never need to feel alone again. What a gift!

CAN'T FORGIVE? What’s the scariest verse in the New Testament? For me, it’s not Jesus’s prediction of the end times in Luke, or even the apocalyptic prophecies of John in his dotage. It’s that little sentence He slips in after explaining to his lads how they should pray, by way of emphasizing the only way we can receive the Father’s forgiveness: “If you do not forgive others, you won’t be forgiven [see Matthew 6:15]. Now that’s something to worry about! Do I harbor a few scraps of unforgiveness in my heart toward ANYONE? Are there one or two crumbs of bitterness left after trying to clean my house of the remains of my past? Guess what? I won’t be forgiven MY sins! What does that say about my chances of eternal life? Where does that leave me? Is it worth the risk? Are we sure our side of the street is clean? We all know that forgiveness is for the benefit of the forgiver, not the forgiven—it gets a monkey off his back. If we need a push, remember what the One whose birthday we’re celebrating this season begged for his torturers—”Forgive them, Father, because they don’t know what they’re doing.”

THE PHANTOM PRINTER The phantom printer sometimes sneaks in and plops something into the Book of Common Prayer which I’ve never really seen—or at least appreciated— before. At our last baptism, He did it once again. On page 308, part of the post-baptismal prayer reads “give them an inquiring and discerning heart.” Therein lies a huge assumption. I understand these words to mean that they are NOT merely to accept everything read or told to them blindly; they are to THINK, evaluate, and decide, guided by God’s Holy Spirit. To make it personal, we are to use [as Richard Hooker laid out in one of the three legs of the Anglican stool, in addition to the Bible and church tradition], reason. And note that it’s our heart we’re to use, meaning we’re invested in the process, not just analytical. As a practical matter, I gather that we are to use our God-given brains [the original computers!] to figure out how eternal truths apply to us in our lives, in our times. Quite an order—but is there anything more worthwhile?

MEEK? Recently someone gave a loved one a sign quoting the beatitude “Blessed are the meek,” and it set this old brain recalling several sermons on just what did Jesus mean by “meek,” anyway? Did He mean “be a doormat—let anyone and everyone walk over you, use you at will,any time or anyplace”? Did He mean “don’t express your opinion—don’t even HAVE an opinion”? Is that really how He expects us to “inherit the earth?” Hardly! I see this statement meaning “Blessed are the humble.” Step seven in the Alcoholics Anonymous Twelve Step program, “humbly asked God to remove all these shortcomings,” spends almost the entire chapter on describing humility. It talks about coming into a right relationship with God and our fellows. It tells us that it’s something we grow to want and need and, for me, it stems from a profound feeling of gratitude to God for having brought me through life’s storms as unscathed as I am, showered with undeserved blessings. It means I am NOT the center of the universe. A far cry rom being a doormat!

THE FOURTH BLESSING In Eucharistic Prayer C, on page 370 of the Book of Common Prayer, we find those words of gratitude: “you...blessed us with memory, reason, and skill.” One can hardly disagree. But I’ve wondered why the composers of this prayer didn’t acknowledge one more blessing, without which the first three would, in my view, be cold and sterile. In fact, they could be used in brilliant but evil ways against us or our fellow man [or woman—we are NOT sexist!]. It gives purpose to all our other blessings, and enriches the quality of our lives beyond compare. And indeed He has blessed us with it, and continues to bless us with it, asking only that we recognize and utilize it. All mental illness, all strife between persons and nations, all manifestations of greed, envy, and hate, are due to our ignoring this precious gift, ours for the asking. What is it, you ask? It’s the capacity to love—him, each other, and his creation. It’s the ground of our being, the salvation of our souls, and using it is his greatest commandment! Now why didn’t those composers think of that? Did you?

SUMMER 2012 Considering how much of Jesus’s recorded ministry on earth was taken up praying for somebody’s healing, and considering that, as his followers, we probably ought to be doing some of that, these questions seem relevant. As we analyze the language we use, what’s the difference among 1. Do you mind if I pray for you?”, 2. I’d like to pray for you—is that OK?”, 3. “May I pray for you?”, and 4. “I’m going to pray for you.”? Subtle but vital distinctions present themselves. Are we hesitant in asking, even almost ashamed, half-expecting a “no”? Do we feel apologetic in asking? Are we too forthright, announcing our intention without considering the other’s feelings? Or is it a simple request, with no hidden meaning whatsoever? Are these just differences in style, or do they reveal something about us and our faith? Perhaps the most important of all, do we ever even think about, or offer, to pray for someone who needs healing? Is this important? Is it just too much to expect? Each new experience of God’s grace seems to add to my gratitude to him for my life, and the wonders I continue to experience all around me. Betsy and I live in a cabin on Walker Mountain. Driving up the winding one-lane road requires fording a stream which has a bumpy bottom and is a couple of inches deep in dry weather, half a foot more when the rains pour. The water bubbles down the mountain from high up among trees, crosses the rocky road under a wooden foot bridge casting a mild spray on our feet, tumbles over rocks on its way down the mountain, only to disappear among even more trees. It makes an almost imperceptible rushing sound, just to let us know it’s there. And it’s been doing the same thing for MILLIONS OF YEARS! Isn’t that the way God’s grace comes to us? It flows into our lives, active, purposeful. It gets our attention by making sure we feel it, does its work, then bubbles on in a never-ending stream. It can always be counted upon; it’s always there. When the weather gets rough, there’s more of it to carry us through. And even if we choose to ignore it, we can’t get where we’re going without coming in contact with it. God seems to take every opportunity to remind me of his grace; I only have to stay aware! Serving at the altar recently, I was suddenly struck with a huge paradox. When Jesus said “This is my body, broken for you; each time you do this, do it in my memory,” He was essentially giving his lads—and, by extension, us—a portion of his tortured dying flesh. And yet we have the audacity to call this ceremony “Eucharist,” which is “thanksgiving” in Greek. Are we giving thanks for his agony? Hardly! I suspect we’re celebrating what He did for us, as gruesome as it must have been for him. It’s utterly astounding that anyone would walk into a suicide trap—sure death by torture. If we are to believe what we hear, He did this for each of us. Was He insane? Who among us would EVER consider doing that for anyone? Yet He did it willingly. No wonder we fall on our knees and call him Lord! Do we stop and think? Tucked away in the sixth chapter of St. Mark’s Gospel, following the oft-quoted “Prophets are not without honor except in their hometown...” is the innocuous-sounding sentence “He could do no deed of power there, except that He laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them.” No deed of power, indeed! What on earth do you call it when someone lays your hands on you and heals you? ********** “Pray ceaselessly,” St. Paul commands in his letter to the Philippians. He doesn’t say “often,” or “most of the time.” He wants us to be in a constant state of prayer. I’m wondering how many of us are capable of this, or how practical it is. When do we sleep? When do we talk to each other? ********** “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood will abide in me,” We rely on this as our Eucharist. Do we ever consider the words literally? No wonder some Muslims wonder if we’re cannibals! Does it matter whether we take these words literally, or whether, as Arlene so beautifully explained to us in a recent sermon, we let their power change us? ******* As we read—or hear—or recite—these words, and many others, from Holy Scripture, do we understand what the words mean to us—or do we just let them go in one ear and out the other? Do we really stop and think? In Eucharistic Prayer C, on page 370 of the Book of Common Prayer, we find those words of gratitude: “you...blessed us with memory, reason, and skill.” One can hardly disagree. But I’ve wondered why the composers of this prayer didn’t acknowledge one more blessing, without which the first three would, in my view, be cold and sterile. In fact, they could be used in brilliant but evil ways against us or our fellow man [or woman—we are NOT sexist!]. It gives purpose to all our other blessings, and enriches the quality of our lives beyond compare. And indeed He has blessed us with it, and continues to bless us with it, asking only that we recognize and utilize it. All mental illness, all strife between persons and nations, all manifestations of greed, envy, and hate, are due to our ignoring this precious gift, ours for the asking. What is it, you ask? It’s the capacity to love—him, each other, and his creation. It’s the ground of our being, the salvation of our souls, and using it is his greatest commandment! Now why didn’t those composers think of that? Did you?

How We Ask to Pray

Considering how much of Jesus’s recorded ministry on earth was taken up praying for somebody’s healing, and considering that, as his followers, we probably ought to be doing some of that, these questions seem relevant. As we analyze the language we use, what’s the difference among 1. Do you mind if I pray for you?”, 2. I’d like to pray for you—is that OK?”, 3. “May I pray for you?”, and 4. “I’m going to pray for you.”? Subtle but vital distinctions present themselves. Are we hesitant in asking, even almost ashamed, half-expecting a “no”? Do we feel apologetic in asking? Are we too forthright, announcing our intention without considering the other’s feelings? Or is it a simple request, with no hidden meaning whatsoever? Are these just differences in style, or do they reveal something about us and our faith? Perhaps the most important of all, do we ever even think about, or offer, to pray for someone who needs healing? Is this important? Is it just too much to expect?

Our Father

The prayer which is often referred to as the “Our Father” lends itself to considerable scrutiny, if only because Jesus himself told us to pray “like” it. Notice that He didn’t say “exactly” like it. Did He mean to use these precise words, or did He want us to express these ideas in our own words? I suppose we’ll never know, but it seems that this prayer has come down through the ages to us as pretty near perfect, so “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” I wonder how we could pray the same thoughts in different words? Should we? Certainly the most eye-catching expression in the entire composition is the first: “OUR FATHER.” How utterly incomprehensible that the Creator of the universe—of ALL other universes—considers us his children, and that we—all humans—are his family. Let that roll around in your consciousness for a spell. We are all in his FAMILY, bound together by his love. Bask in THAT and ask yourself if you really believe it? If so, what difference does it make in our daily lives, work, and relationships? Puts a new slant on “brother” and “sister,” doesn’t it?
Come to think of it, Jesus’s word for “father” is “abba,” meaning ‘Daddy.” Wouldn’t you like to crawl up onto your daddy’s lap and bask in his wisdom and love? Why don’t you?

Me No Response

When I lived in Jamaica in the 70’s, I often heard the common excuse, “me no response.” [read that “I’m not responsible”]. That came to mind when we participated in a baptism recently: at the bottom of page 304 in our Book of Common Prayer we find “Will you persevere in resisting evil, and whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?” This question is asked by the priest of the candidates AND the congregation. That’s us!
Since that sneaky little adverb is “whenever,” not “if,” the assumption is that we WILL fall into sin [i.e., separation from God]. Really FALL. As I reflect on the 86 years of my Christian walk, I’m hard put to it to identify ever FALLING into sin. I didn’t trip or topple. I wasn’t pushed or dragged. I actually made a decision to enter into something sinful. When denial was operating, I CHOSE to ignore the evidence. I can’t really blame you—or anyone else—for my actions. I did it. Me. On purpose. Denial might have salved my conscience for a time, but way down deep inside, in that little space no one else can enter, I knew—and I knew that I knew. No matter how hard I wanted to shift the responsibility, if I were to look at the situation honestly, I couldn’t claim “me no response.”
What do you think? Can you?

Me No Response

When I lived in Jamaica in the 70’s, I often heard the common excuse, “me no response.” [read that “I’m not responsible”]. That came to mind when we participated in a baptism recently: at the bottom of page 304 in our Book of Common Prayer we find “Will you persevere in resisting evil, and whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?” This question is asked by the priest of the candidates AND the congregation. That’s us!
Since that sneaky little adverb is “whenever,” not “if,” the assumption is that we WILL fall into sin [i.e., separation from God]. Really FALL. As I reflect on the 86 years of my Christian walk, I’m hard put to it to identify ever FALLING into sin. I didn’t trip or topple. I wasn’t pushed or dragged. I actually made a decision to enter into something sinful. When denial was operating, I CHOSE to ignore the evidence. I can’t really blame you—or anyone else—for my actions. I did it. Me. On purpose. Denial might have salved my conscience for a time, but way down deep inside, in that little space no one else can enter, I knew—and I knew that I knew. No matter how hard I wanted to shift the responsibility, if I were to look at the situation honestly, I couldn’t claim “me no response.”
What do you think? Can you?

I Will Pray for You...

“I will pray for you.” “My prayers will be with you.” “Please join me in the prayers of the people.” So we pray. So now what? Does it do any good? Does God listen, care, act? The Order of St. Luke is replete with stories about how prayer works; are they really true? If so, why don’t my prayers work that way? Aren’t they as good? Am I not as good? Is it all just a sham, a fake?
Have you ever wondered about these things? Welcome to the human race! Even Jesus’s disciples wondered these things. Many sermons have attempted to explain them. The standard understanding about God’s answers is that He always hears, always replies—sometimes “yes,” sometimes “no,” sometimes “wait.” Although I’m sure that’s true, somehow it doesn’t go far enough. I’ve had to come to the conclusion that all these answers are based on a flawed fundamental premise. The purpose of intercessory prayer is not to make God do our bidding; He is NOT some celestial puppet. The purpose is to mold our will closer to his, to bring us closer to him. Then He can accomplish his purposes through us, or at least give us a sense of peace knowing that we’re in his will. Then I can attain some measure of acceptance. That’s infinitely more precious Do you agree?

Does Jesus Make Mistakes?

Canaanite woman: “Yes, Lord, even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their
masters’ table.” Jesus: ”Woman, great is your faith. Let it be done for as you wish.”...Mt 15:27
Jesus: “Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.” ... Mt 16:28
A conundrum: since Jesus is God, and God doesn’t make mistakes or change his mind, how do you explain these two passages? There are fancy oblique theological explanations which attempt to sanitize them, but come come, now—could the words be any clearer? In the first, He changes his mind after the mother begs for her daughter’s spiritual health [“and the demon left her”].
In the second, almost two millennia have transpired without his prediction’s fruition. And how about John’s startling tale where at the wedding in Cana his mother encourages him to perform the water-into-wine miracle against his will—and He does!?
These passages are, for me, faith-builders. Seriously. No doubt that He is divine, God-in-the-flesh. But in his humanity my Lord can reverse his decision, can even be wrong. There’s a Man to whom I can relate, the flexibility of whose cerebration resembles mine, demonstrating that He is willing to change and grow. He encourages me to do likewise—and that He shows me his humanity is soooo comforting!
Does this help you to relate to him?

What a friend...

“What a friend we have in Jesus.” “I tell you, my friends, do not fear those who kill the body.” [Lk 12:4]. “You are my friends if you do what I command you.” [Jn 15:14]. “I have called you friends because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father.” [Jn 15:15].
Have you ever REALLY thought about what the old hymn—and Jesus himself—is saying here? Isn’t a bit insane to believe that the Grand Architect of the
Universe, who constructed and set in their courses the planets, stars, galaxies, and even alternate universes, across which it would take light millions of years to travel— is my friend? That the designer of the intricate and infinitely complex human body really cares a whit about me? Please—isn’t it a bit beyond all reason that He who causes the sun to shine, the waves to roll, the corn to sway in the wind, the thunder to resound, has any personal interest in me—only one of seven thousand million people on earth? And yet we are asked to believe this. As for me, I DO believe, not “for the Bible tells me so,” but because He has told me so in many ways throughout my 86 years. There is simply no other
credible explanation for the blessings of my life, for the way good things have happened beyond all logical
explanation.
I believe I have witnessed true miracles. How about you?

Honesty

How honest is honest? I learned long ago that being honest is critical to maintaining a healthy spiritual condition [read that “relationship with Jesus and others”]. For too many years my conversations veered off-center in order to look good to someone else, and now with over 38 years of sobriety behind me, it is still just as vital for me to avoid any shading of the truth. I figure the Lord always sees my heart anyway, and I get a dark brown feeling inside whenever I do the “little white lie” or “convenient exaggeration.” Sometimes the truth can hurt others, though, and then I must make a conscious decision whether or not to tell the WHOLE truth. This is not always easy, but then life was never promised to be always easy. The criterion for such decisions is usually “what’s the kindest thing to do?”, but even then—for my own emotional integrity—I decide that putting honesty first will prove to be best in the long run. The balance between sins of omission and sins of commission is occasionally maddeningly delicate. And then there’s the ultimate question: “What does Jesus want me to do in this situation?” As trite as it sounds, that usually solves the problem. Do you agree?

Metaphors for Jesus's Dual Nature

In a recent video on the history of Christianity, a metaphor was used to shed light on the oft-debated and sometimes contentious mystery of Jesus’s dual nature. How can He be both fully human and fully divine? This theological issue, central to our concept of the Christ, sharply
divided the Church many years ago—and no wonder: how can mere mortals get our heads around this?
The examples used were illuminating: if you pour some oil into a glass partly full of water, then stir it, the liquid will become cloudy—but the oil particles, no matter how small, will still be discrete [this mixture is known as an emulsion]. If you were to centrifuge it, the oil particles would separate out and float at the periphery. However, if you tried the same experiment with water and wine, the mixing would be complete, the particles inseparable, no matter how fast you ran the centrifuge. The very molecules have mingled.
Which model more accurately describes Jesus? If you believe, as I do, that his natures are inseparable, then the water-wine metaphor is more accurate. Does this help to explain the mystery—or at least make us
wonder?

Development of Relationships

It may be a flirtation leading to marriage, a casual acquaintance which blossoms into a deep life-long friendship, or a crowded-elevator accidental elbow-brushing leading to a long-time rock-solid business association. Regardless, there seems to be an evolving spectrum of intensity in relationships. It starts with mere acknowledgment of the other, then a noting of similarities and differences, followed by a decision to tolerate perceived differences. Then the magic begins—a reconciliation of these differences. We realize that they are outweighed by a real appreciation of the other person’s otherness, which births a desire to relate, to form a significant bond. We find ourselves actually beginning actively to work on the relationship.
Some of these steps may be subconscious; some are shorter than others; but the process leads to a widening of our horizon, a fresh perspective. The result is the dawning of the concept that people–relationships—are more important than things, a mark of maturity.
Come to think of it, with a few modifications, isn’t this how we come to know Jesus?

Jesus's Name

Throughout both the New Testament and the Book of Common Prayer, our Savior is frequently referred to as “Jesus Christ.” Now far be it from me to critique such sacred writings, but each time I read or see that name, I scratch my spiritual head. His message to us is clear: in John’s gospel He goes to great lengths to explain that He wants to be our friend. In fact, throughout the gospels he tries to draw us to him. Therefore why do we refer to him by his title? His last name is not mentioned in the Bible, as was the custom then, but one could assume He was “bar Joseph,” or “Josephson.” Since “Christ” means “messiah,” or “savior,” calling him “Jesus Christ” is roughly like calling the royal head of the British
empire “Elizabeth Queen,” or your dad “George Father.” Christ is not his last name—it’s his title, his job description, if you will. So if we must use it, let’s at least say “Christ Jesus,” more formal but more accurate—sort of like “Queen Elizabeth,” or “Father George.”
Am I nitpicking? How important is this in building a relationship with him? Maybe not insurmountable, but for me, it’s helpful to call my friend “Jesus,” because I address all my friends by their given names. That seems to work best for me—how about you?

More Recovery

We’ve recently considered how not living up to either our parents’ or our own expectations of ourselves can damage us, and how to recover. Equally serious is the opposite predicament we often create, that of blaming our parents for not living up to our expectations of them—as though we had a right to expect anything of them. Of course expectations are just unborn resentments, and so we tend to blame those who raised us for our problems [shortcomings, character defects, inadequacies, whatever]. Then we need therapy, counseling, Gestalt work, detoxification, prayer, or some combination to launch into recovery. We need to see that it is not circumstances, but how we choose to react to circumstances, that forms our character and dictates our behavior. It’s not what happens, but our perception of what happens, that does damage. The good news is that we can actually learn to use tools to clear out the wreckage of the past. What a revelation! How long, painful, and expensive this discovery can be—but how delightfully worth it to be free of that monkey of unforgiveness on our backs! You do know that forgiving, our most critical tool, isn’t to benefit the other guy, it’s for us—don’t you?

What's Driving My Bus?

What’s driving my bus now? Do I act and feel at peace with God’s creation, or am I still fighting the bus-driver?

Often my growth has been frozen by the “either-or” paradigm. I’ve been seduced by an overpowering urge to dichotomize. However, as I mature I have begun to appreciate that to the extent that I regard God’s entire creation from such a basic two-valued orientation, my perspective is limited, my viewpoint judgmental, and my arrogance risks becoming pathetically transparent. If I can get my self-centeredness out of the way, I must concede that most things are seldom either totally black or white, short or tall, easy or hard, approvable or disapprovable, right or wrong, true or false, even good or evil. There are grays.
Accepting this multi-valued orientation causes me to cerebrate, to reëvaluate, to expand my horizons, to understand life in many spheres as infinitely more complex than I prefer. It also requires some degree of humility, because no longer may I cling to the comforting assurance that my opinions are the only correct ones, and therefore everyone else is automatically wrong. It is truly sobering to realize that others may have as good a handle on Pilate’s “truth” than that of The Great All-American “I Am.” Or at the very least, “their” way just might be as valid, workable, or productive. And the real biggie for me: does this wider horizon apply to any of the sacred cows of inviolable biblical injunctions?
My former world-view may not always have been conscious, but as long as I were to cling to it, that’s what would drive my bus. When I interiorize and begin to work with the broader perspective, however, there are new consequences. I become automatically more tolerant of others — ALL others. I lose the anxiety—the drivenness— of always having to be right, and the tyranny of needing to be error-free. Then old absolutes will no longer drive me to distraction or threaten my very sanity, because I see them in their absurdity and no longer fear being sucked back into my old prejudices.

What to do? Stay aware.Talk with others on the same path. Seek spiritual counselling. Keep open my mind, soften my heart, and busy the direct prayer-line to the Creator of all. Is this an eiphany?

Emotions

How many times have I prayed Eucharistic Prayer C, asserting that God has “blessed us with memory, reason, and skill”? The other day I realized that God has given us another function of our mind, that of feeling. Not fingertips’ detecting rough surfaces, or temperatures, or physical pain—but emotions. This area of cerebral function is missing from animals, or immature at best. How satisfying it is to FEEL love, joy, contentment, anticipation—all the pleasant emotions! It’s also a good thing to feel fear, anger, stress, and other unpleasant feelings, for at least we know we’re alive and human, and can learn from them, work through them to become more whole.
I have been blessed to have been loved by two exceptional women in my 85 years. How sterile it would have been to simply recognize their usefulness to my personal economy, and missed the passion, the camaraderie, yes—the “warm fuzzies” that added to my memory, reason, and skill. Not just the intellectual realization of feelings, but the feelings themselves! And I’ve discovered that to become mature, I MUST learn to value my emotions as God-given. A prime example: I figure I’m about as good as how well I’ve learned to love. There are many stories of folks on their death bed who lamented that they hadn’t told their family members how much they loved them; how many have you heard of who wished that they had spent more time at the office?Yet I remember being taught as the ideal for which one should reach was being productive. No one even hinted that loving was the far higher virtue!
We’re blessed with memory, reason, skill, and the ability to feel—praise God!

Memory, Reason, Skill, and...

How many times have I prayed Eucharistic Prayer C in the Book of Common Prayer, asserting that God has “blessed us with memory, reason, and skill”? The other day I realized that God has given us another function of our mind, that of feeling. Not fingertips’ detecting rough surfaces, or temperatures, or physical pain—but emotions. This area of cerebral function is missing from animals, or immature at best. How satisfying it is to FEEL love, joy, contentment, anticipation—all the pleasant emotions! It’s also a good thing to feel fear, anger, stress, and other unpleasant feelings, for at least we know we’re alive and human, and can learn from them, work through them to become more whole.
I am blessed to have loved and been loved by two exceptional women in my 85 years. How sterile it would have been to simply recognize their usefulness to my personal economy, and missed the passion, the camaraderie, yes—the “warm fuzzies” that added to my memory, reason, and skill. Not just the intellectual realization of feelings, but the feelings themselves! And I’ve discovered that to become mature, I MUST learn to value my emotions as God-given. A prime example: I figure I’m about as good as how well I’ve learned to love. There are many stories of folks on their death bed who lamented that they hadn’t told their family members how much they loved them; how many have you heard of who wished that they had spent more time at the office? Yet I remember being taught as the ideal for which one should reach was being productive. No one even hinted that loving was the far higher virtue!
We’re blessed with memory, reason, skill, and the ability to feel—praise God!

Repairing the Breach

“I wasn’t there. I didn’t do it.” That’s what I said when “Repairing the Breach” first wormed its way into my consciousness [the Episcopal Church’s attempt to enlighten and heal prejudice].The separation between blacks and whites wasn’t important to me—until I became bombarded with the images of how we [my government and my civilian compatriots] have insulted, degraded, brutalized, and even murdered “them”—people different from me.
The Chinese while building the trans-Pacific railroad. The Indians while we expanded our way across the country. The children in sweatshops. The Jews in factories. Even the Catholics. Foreigners [non-Wasps] of all
extractions. And the coloreds, whom I was raised from birth to consider inferior. This was subtly conveyed by innuendo, never directly.
The embarrassing fact is that a bit of that still governs my thinking, as “broad-minded” as I like to consider myself. Even living for two years in Jamaica, where class, not color, is the demographic by which one describes people, didn’t burn it out completely. I came to realize that whites are, on average, more privileged by virtue of history, economics, and education, NOT by color. And, on some level, we react to it.
Then came the initiative “Repairing the Breach,” with its revealing, disturbing movie, “Traces of the Trade,” exposing the little-known story of the prominent Episcopal [my long-time spiritual home] New England [my long-time geographic home] family who were the biggest slave traders in my country! And while these kidnapped folks were in chains in a prison in Ghana, underneath an Episcopal church, those “Christians” had the gall to change their prisoners’ names and baptize them! Can you believe such hypocrisy? And, as much as it hurts to admit it, the results of this irreverent subjugation still haunt us.
We’re never too old to learn, and I’m still learning!

Reason

Richard Hooker’s descriptions of the doctrinal stance of the Episcopal Church included his three-legged stool of Bible, church tradition, and reason. The Bible, of course, is basic to all Christian denominations—self-evident. Church tradition, rich with hard-wrought conclusions, extends throughout two millennia. As for the third, “reason,” I had considered it synonymous with “logical thinking” until I recently heard that he defined it as “thought, feelings, and experience.” That considerably expands the concept.
“Thought” is obvious. Although “experience” is personal and cumulative, it may overlap with church tradition. But “feelings”—that’s another matter. That brings in emotion, and opens a new can of worms. How can fear, jealousy, anger, attraction, joy, confusion, guilt, desperation—all those feelings we men have traditionally had to work to identify—be part of the reasoning process?
Years ago I was told by a psychiatrist that men were driven by, and acted on, their emotions to the same degree as women, and I flat-out didn’t believe him. Now, after much therapy and anguished soul-searching, I do. [An example: although we think our conclusions are solely based on logic, in reality they’re the result of what we LIKE, and therefore conclude that they’re right]. Maybe Hooker was on to something!

Praying the Psalms

A close examination of the words of each of the psalms often indicates significant differences between the writer and the listener. In some, we talk to God—praying in the narrowest, truest sense. In others, God talks to us [through the words of David or someone else]—prophecy in the narrowest, truest sense. In the rest, we are talking to each other, man to man [no sexism intended]. In more than a few psalms, two or even three of these modalities are interleaved. It fairly makes my head swirl to decode who’s talking to whom now already? [Scholars tell us that the specific origins of many of them are hidden in the millenia-old mists of Aramaic time, obscured by translations and interpretations through several languages, cultures, and contexts.]
It gives me pause, therefore, each time the lector requests that we PRAY the psalm. In previous churches where I’ve been a lector, I made it a habit to remind the hearers who was talking to whom, in an attempt to clarify what the words were meant to convey. Personally, I love "praying a psalm,” but wonder about the appropriateness of the instruction so to do with all psalms. Then again, one might be hard put to explain such nuances succinctly with a single preamble, and I’d far rather tell folks to “pray” a psalm [it’s much more God-directed] than to instruct them to “read” it. Oh well, food for thought...

How can I know God’s will—whether my choice is his—in any particular situation? Libraries are full of books with recommendations and advice. Here’s one suggestion:
Imagine sailing into port at midnight, being guided by three lights—the three L’s. If I can I maneuver my craft so that all three are in a straight line, one behind another appearing as one, then I’m on target. If I can keep them in that line, I’ll make port—God’s will for me.
The lights? #1 is “Is it a Loving thing to do?” That includes to me and others, and can be backed up by references in Proverbs and/or the New Testament. #2 is “Is it Logical? [same as the “Reason” leg of our Episcopal tripod. We’re supposed to use our God-given brains!]. And finally, #3: “Have I Linked?” [consulted with Christian friends; otherwise I risk having a conversation with myself, an easy recipe for delusion].
If it passes all three of these tests, I’m reasonably sure that my decision lines up with God’s will.

Creed Words

“Eternally begotten from the Father, true God from true God, of one being with the Father.” Do we have the foggiest idea what we’re saying every Sunday, what those words really mean?
When I was in Lutheran confirmation class in 1938, I was told that “begotten” described a unique process by which the Son continuously streamed from the Father without diminishing the Father in any way. It was NOT related to birthing, producing, or dividing—it was unique. [Never mind the list of “Jacobean begats” in Jesus’s geneology as recorded by Matthew 1!]. in A tough concept to get one’s head around. Now what about “eternally”? That meant that it began before the universe [or time ?], has continued through the present, and will continue indefinitely. It is without beginning or end. Another tough concept.
Some interesting questions arise: What was before God? If their connection were broken, could the Son exist apart from the Father, either spiritually or physically? Could the Father have existed prior to the Son? If He were the Creator, as stated in John 1, why wasn’t the Son specifically mentioned in either of the creation stories in Genesis? What was the Son doing all the time before the Father sent him to us? For that matter, since He’s sent us his Spirit to be with us, what’s He busy doing now all day long—does it take all that time to intercede for us—doesn’t the Father get the point from a shorter intercession? Enough to make one’s brain swim!

When Will They Learn?

At church during Lent we were privileged to hear several commentaries on prayer. Prayer for healing, Taizé worship, the meaning of prayer, personal prayer, and our spiritual types—all were beautifully covered. I wonder if God sees all these valiant strivings to get close to him, scratches his celestial head, and muses, “Why don’t they just talk to me? I’m always here, waiting. I know their music, a gift from me, helps calm their frenzied souls. I know silence, candles, rituals, altar trappings, icons, laying-on-of-hands, Elizabethan language, hymns—they use all of these to get them in the mood to relate me. But I wonder why they want to—maybe HAVE to—jump through all these hoops to reach me when I’ve made myself so available to them? I’m to their left, their right, above them, below them, and WITHIN them—a mere heartbeat away. I read their very thoughts. I created them to talk to me, to listen to me [oh, how hard they seem to make that!], and to love me as I love them. Why are they do dense? When will they catch on to how easy I’ve made it for them? When will their days be filled with one long continuous conversation with me? When?”

Praying—to Whom?

Thinking about our “Prayers of the People” in the Book of Common Prayer which we intone every Sunday, I have a feeling of purpose and connection, and the strong possibility that God will honor the intentions of my heart when I pray for specific persons or situations. But when I pray [both with my fellow parishioners as the body of Christ and in my private prayers] for the good of communities, nations, and the world, or for “all” ministers, or “all” who care for the sick, etc, I often wonder how effective such blanket praying really is. Will God bless “all” the sick, the friendless, and the needy, or “all” the leaders of the nations? And even if, as I believe, the chief purpose of petitionary prayer is to align my will with his, how can I get my will around “all” these folks? I once heard a sermon on this subject; it has caused me to consider this question just about every time we pray for populations. I must admit I’m much more likely to focus my prayers. What about you?

The Third Person of the Trinity

To whom do I pray—the Father, the Son, or that elusive Person, the Holy Spirit? Does it make any difference? [As an aside, how often have we heard the Holy Spirit referred to as an “it”? Recall that Jesus said in John 16:12-13 that He would “send someone to walk beside us and guide us into all truth.” That sure sounds like a PERSON to me!]
How does one describe this elusive Person? A few decades ago, in an attempt to understand his rôle, I settled on the idea that He was the “communications arm” of the Trinity. He told us the things we needed to know, and was the channel through whom we could relate to the Father and the Son—even though clearly I couldn’t see or touch him. A few decades before that, during confirmation class at age 14, my Lutheran pastor used this analogy: my father was a doctor to his patients, a husband to my mother, and a dad to me—but he was all the same man, perceived from different perspectives: ditto for the triune God. That seemed to satisfy me better that anything I’d heard so far, and maybe since!
The upshot? I doubt God cares a whit to which person of his trinity we talk and listen, as long as we do it. He’ll hear us and speak to us–He always does! Sometimes it’s when we’re paying attention to him, sometime He jumps into our consciousness unexpectedly, but He’s ALWAYS trying to reach us. It’s up to us to keep focused on him.

Praying Grace

The ancient practice of thanking God for providing a meal seems to have evolved into thanking him for lots of other things as well. I recall with some nostalgia my mother’s family’s standard “grace”: “For all we are about to receive, dear Lord, make us truly thankful.” I remember my late wife’s family grace, which expands the horizon: “We thank thee, Father, wise and good, for home and friends and daily food. Bless to our use this food we take, and keep us all for Jesus’s sake.” I also learned early in life this one, which includes other people [although it doesn’t tell us what to do about them]: “Give us grateful hearts, O Lord, for all thy mercies and blessings, and make us mindful of the needs of others.” The list could go on.
When I give the blessing, I usually just let flow what’s in my heart at the time. I like to include all those at table with us, thanking him for whatever gathering is present. It doesn’t seem to be the time to intercede for all who need his special touch—unless there’s a particularly pressing need. Thanks for the meal and its preparers are in order. I always feel grateful for his incomprehensible love for us, and let that be known. And a Halleluia [“praise to you, Lord” usually precedes the “Amen [“I believe” in you.] Then it’s time to fill up!
PS: The incredible gift of his love for each of us, and the unlikely way He turned up in Bethlehem a couple of millennia ago, are always appropriate objects for gratitude, Christmas season or not.

Sin[s]

Another aspect of our confession of sins is the little letter “s.” It all seems to start with the ancient doctrine of original sin with which, according to the Genesis account of Adam’s fall, we are all born. [Having delivered over a thousand moms, I have trouble conceiving of these precious newborns as possessing any sin at all, original or not!] If there is such a thing, surely it’s the human trait of self-centeredness, which infants and children exhibit in spades for years. Ideally, the growth of a child into an adult is the vehicle by which concern for others is learned. When this other-centeredness becomes the overarching motive for the majority of our thoughts, prayers, and behaviors, we can be said to be more like Jesus, more sinless. But our basic sinfulness is still a shortcoming to be dealt with. It’s the motive for our sinful ideas and actions, “those things we have done which we ought not to have done” and vice versa. So when we “confess our sins,” are we asking forgiveness for our individual sins, or for not having worked through and shed our state of original sinfulness? Do we really believe that we are basically sinful creatures, or merely nice people who occasionally fall from the ideal of selflessness?
Whether we’re born sinful or acquire sinfulness, we certainly have our share of it, or else we would have no sins to confess. For many decades I hadn’t the foggiest notion that I had any sinfulness—only an occasional little sin here and there. How powerful is denial! Now I rather think that, even if my sins are fewer and fewer, it’s my innate sinfulness which still drives me to commit even these. I keep wondering if I’ll ever be free of it...

Confession

Virtually every Sunday we confess each others’ sins. Why? Of course—it’s in the Prayer Book! But isn’t sin a personal matter of “missing the mark,” “crossing the line,” “venturing outside the circle of God’s will”? And if so, what right do I have to be part of, or interfere with, your asking God’s forgiveness for your sins? Although as a group we do some sinful things or manifest sinful attitudes, does God want me to beg for anyone else’s forgiveness? Isn’t that presumptuous? Isn’t forgiveness a private matter between me and God, or you and God? Does the forgiveness you need correspond so exactly with what I need [not to mention all the other folks in church at the time] that I can lump them all together as needing the same kind or amount of forgiveness? What business is it of mine anyway what forgiveness you think you need? Is it enough to water down the flow of his forgiveness to include the speck in your eye when I’m needing a ton of it for the log in mine? Is it just possible that God knows what each of us needs and apportions his forgiveness appropriately? Or is that just an excuse to include you in my praying so I won’t have to face the enormity of mine? I’m sure there’s a place for corporate confession/forgiveness, even though we each can’t have committed EXACTLY the same quantity and quality of sins—but isn’t that sort of broad-brush approach the province of our clergy, who represent us to God and God to us? As Hercule Poirot would comment, it gives one to think...

Motives

One of the subtleties of exploring and unraveling a relationship between two people—friends, spouses, even business partners—is the problem of the elusive motive. Many years ago I spied a quote from Fr. Morton Kelsey, a preëminent author/theologian of the last century, querying “Has anyone ever seen a motive?,” and I wondered what he meant.
As I trudged my way through years of therapy, 12 steps, and self-help books, and with the loving help of my gifted and long-suffering wife, it began to dawn on me: I came to suspect that almost never had I done anything with a totally pure motive. Even changing my children’s diapers, or giving a present, or treating a patient, or serving on a board, or doing anything nice for anyone—when I thought I was exhibiting agape, my motive was ALWAYS mixed. Maybe it was less than one percent, maybe it was subconscious, but ALWAYS, lurking beneath the surface, was a piece of me wanting you, or him, or her, or them, to like me more, to repay me, or to judge me less harshly. What a relief it was to discover, when I shared this shameful shortcoming, that almost everyone identifies with this. Is this an aspect of original sin? Why are we wired this way? Maybe God gave us this dilemma to help us grow more perfect in love—something to shoot for. A puzzlement…

Our Marvelous Brain

As I have trudged my path of spiritual maturity, I’ve noticed that my priorities have changed. The obvious ones—pandering to my addictions, treating my patients with more consideration than I did my family—were only the beginning. I’ve found that I’m much less interested in things that bring only me pleasure, and more involved with others’ happiness. [If I had designed our psyches, I wouldn’t have even considered producing a brain that took more pleasure in giving joy to others rather than myself; how fortunate for us all that I wasn’t the designer!]. I find I’m considerably more tolerant, and far less judgmental, of those whose
opinions differ from mine. I’ve even discovered that, on occasion, theirs may not only show some merit, but even be more worthy than mine—wonder of wonders! I seem to be more drawn to thoughts and ideas of a spiritual nature than ever before. I even discover that God seems to be doing for me what I clearly have been unable to do by myself. And, most amazingly, I realize that I get more and more grateful for the blessings which He obviously has bestowed upon me, utterly unmerited and sometimes even undesired. This “attitude of gratitude,” a product of genuine grace, has radically reversed much of the
preoccupation with self which had plagued me for decades. Changing frozen attitudes—that’s a true miracle. Our God is an awesome God

Faith vs. Trust

In my view, faith is a gift [see I Cor. 12:9]. Something I HAVE. A noun. It requires no action. An example: God IS and CAN act. This I believe through the gift of faith —“evidence of things unseen” Heb 11:1]. The Spirit can both initiate and bolster it.
Trust, however, is the result, the maturation, of faith. It’s a verb, something I DO, and results in the noun. Example: I BELIEVED that God would sell our condo in time to save us from insolvency. I had to have faith in him first, that He is and can act, causing things to happen or changing the natural order in which things unfold. But to TRUST requires a belief that He would, in his time and manner, better than I could have arranged it. In this instance, trust required repeated reinforcement, because I’ve an old habit of playing ping-pong with God—repeatedly taking the ball back after I’ve bounced it to him. Trust is not instinctual for me; it requires conscious self-reminding. He remained lovingly patient with me,
consistently answering my prayers with “Wait!” Then, to prove his attentiveness, after exactly three years to the week, he arranged the first person to make an offer request that we be out in three weeks, and paid cash! What a blessing—and what a lesson for us to learn. Our God is an awesome God!

Easter Season

It’s Easter season. The Bunny. Fancy clothes. Parades. Colored eggs to find. Baked ham, pineapple, and sweet potatoes. Candy-filled baskets with
intricate chocolate creations. Jelly beans. No? What then—spring weather? Full church? Upbeat scriptures? Finally shouting “Alleluia” once again?
Of course Easter is all of these, and infinitely more. It’s the celebration of new birth. It’s the anniversary of the most astounding miracle ever recorded. And yet— what’s this “resurrection” REALLY all about? What’s it got to do with ME? What do I get out of it? Whose new birth? Why all the fuss?
The answers to these age-old questions can make the difference between existing and living, between lethargy and purpose, between life and death. It has something to do with “the kingdom.” Do I really believe that this Jesus fellow staggered willingly into a trap to be tortured to death for ME? Isn’t this insane? Why would ANYONE do such a thing? This strange, unbelievable, cataclysmic event, Easter—what about it? Has it changed me? Has my understanding been not just intellectually broadened, but radically changed—then has grace seeped into my soul to make me profoundly different, forgiving, full of gratitude, on fire, NEW? Is Easter REAL to me? Do I even
understand what God has done—is doing—for me? On a practical level, is it important? Do I care? Why?

Accepting the Cross...

In Jerusalem in 1978 I was standing on the lithostratos, a stone pavement which is now the floor of the sub-
basement of a convent. The nun explained that this was formerly at ground level, and is the very spot where He accepted his cross—willingly. He could have refused, calling on legions of angels to protect him, but no—He chose to accept it.
This stunned me. I had only begun to be a committed Christian five years before, after a Cursillo weekend.
From that pivotal announcement I grew to understand that my particular cross to accept—and bear—was named
“Forgiveness.” That following him means deciding, then learning, to forgive my parents, my wife, my co-workers, my friends, my children, and especially myself. It was years until I figured out that forgiveness made me free, whether or not the forgiven one accepted or even knew about my change of heart. The transaction was between me and Jesus. But how was I to do this?
God knew my dilemma. One particular evening I was driving home from work when He worked a miracle: unbidded, out of the blue, He brought to my consciousness the parable of the unforgiving servant in Mt 18:21-35.
He caused it to spring alive and remind me powerfully of for how much I had been forgiven—and by whom—during the carnage of thirty years of active alcoholism. He made the connection for me, so I could make the decision to
forgive, then pray to the Great Forgiver for the grace to do it. From my shoulders the eight-hundred-pound gorilla was instantly lifted—the burdens I’d carried, nurtured, even relished, for years. I became free!
Lord Jesus, you willingly accepted your cross. Now I know I must accept mine—daily, remembering to forgive often—to keep the freedom you’ve given me. How grateful my heart is! Help me to keep accepting my cross...

The Presence

This may appear to be mere mental muscle-flexing or inconsequential time-wasting, but something has bugged me for years. Do you remember Brother Lawrence’s famous treatise “Practicing the Presence of God”? He was a resident in a monastery in the late 1800’s; working in the kitchen, he simply radiated godly cheer, whether chopping carrots or emptying swill. A modernized version appeared many decades later in which he was a hospital worker performing similar drudgery. The tale was convincing, influencing many to do the same, and points up the question “Can we really invoke God’s ‘presence’?” Think of the words we use as we ”summon” him in church worship services—fill us, come among us, make yourself known to us, et cetera. Is it reasonable to implore him in prayer to do these things? Must we “invite” him into our lives, our minds, our hearts?
If He is, as I was taught as a youth in confirmation class, and as I fervently believe, omnipresent [as well as omniscient and omnipotent], isn’t He already here? Isn’t it, rather, not a matter of issuing these invitations to persuade him to come to us, but really to remind ourselves that He’s been here all the while. It’s unlikely that He is a puppet doing our bidding, but rather our resident cosmic lover whose presence we need to acknowledge and enter into. It’s up to us to draw closer to him. The spiritual work is ours, not his—all the difference in the world!

Epiphany Wonderings

This season of the year I wonder about several things. First, how long did Jesus’s folks keep him in a smelly stable with dirty hay and cow dung before a room opened up in the inn? How old was He when He was moved to a house where the wise men from the East came to worship him and bring gifts [see Mt. 2:1]. Note that their number is never mentioned despite the popular carol? Whose house was it? Where? [Incidentally, that’s where the star shone guiding the wise men, NOT in the stable—despite the drawing on the front of this issue of Pages!]. Did his earthly parents ever get married [Jesus’s four brothers are named, along with recognition of at least two sisters, in MT 13:55]. When did they suspect that He was, at the very least, a “gifted” child, probably a savant? For that matter, when did He suspect that He was radically different—did He even know it when as a twelve-year-old He was missing from the bosom of his parents for THREE WHOLE DAYS? [see Lk 2:42 ff]. Incidentally, where were his folks during that time when they couldn’t find him in the caravan—weren’t they panicked? Were they partying? Why did they wait so long before turning back to find him peacefully holding two-way conversations with the elders of the temple?
One would think that, for the sake of accuracy, the various
chroniclers of the life of the Messiah might want to record such
important details. But we’re left to wonder, as we wonder—in this wondrous season—about so many wondrously improbable happenings. Not the least of these, of course, is the improbability of the King of the universe appearing among us as a helpless infant!

Advent-Christmas

We all know that the four weeks before Christmas are “Advent.” We know about Advent wreaths and Advent logs, special music, and reënactments of the birth of Jesus, done with various degrees of professionalism. We even know that we’re supposed to be minimizing the Christmas shopping rush which began before Hallowe’en, and preparing our hearts for the celebration of the coming of the Christ-child.
Now the questions. To us, is this primarily sentimentalism, inspiring because of its warm-fuzzy familiarity? Is its regularly-recurring ritual simply a landmark in the calendar of our church? Is this time of year a grand excuse for changing gears and mouthing Christian principles? To gather with family to overeat? Compulsively to swap expensive gifts lest we be beholden to someone whom we forgot? All of the above??
Do we believe—really believe—that Jesus was conceived by God the Holy Spirit and born in a manger of a virgin? For that’s the core of the story. No matter what else we believe, if the start of the Christian story is in doubt, can any of the rest be credible? There have always been utra-liberals who insist that such a belief is peripheral to Christianity—that it’s simply not relevant whether the recorded details of his conception, gestation, and birth are accurate.
Each of us must face this question for himself. If we cannot, with the eyes of faith, accept beyond question this story at face value, we may still be active, involved church-members, doing good and spreading kindness. But oh how dry we must be inside, how empty our relationship with this remarkable Man-who-is-God, and how much we need his precious truth to illuminate our hearts and enrich our lives!
May the incredible joy of knowing and nurturing the Christ-child within us shed abroad through our lives his message of indescribable, indiscriminate, and unconditional peace and love. May Advent grow in our hearts, and may we know and give a Merry Christmas!

Three Advantages

The Right Reverend G. Porter Taylor, bishop of Western North Carolina, recently delivered a sermon which neatly characterized the three advantages of being a committed Christian [as against a member of a Christian club, commonly called called a church].
First, we’re never alone. Ever. We’re part of a loving, caring group of folks who comprise the body of Christ. All are sinners, from different walks of life, all ages, but “bonded together with ties that cannot be broken.” Mutual support and encouragement is not the exception—it’s the rule.
Next, we’re never static—can never relax in the same place spiritually. We’re always on a journey—always. There’s an old biological aphorism that “The only evidence of life is growth,” and that goes double for the spiritual life.
Lastly, we’re immersed in a sea of grace, surrounded by the love and mercy of your Lord and Savior. This is real. It is not a function of who we are, but of who God is, and there’s no escaping it. There is, however, the danger of ignoring it, or—worse—denying it. It brings freedom from our most malignant malady, fear, and will lead to the deep joy of belonging.
Sounds like a pretty good deal—who in his right mind could refuse?

Lead Us Not into Temptation

Ever notice that phrase we use so often which comes from the book of Matthew, chapter six, verse 11, part of the example Jesus gave when his students asked him how they should pray: “Lead us not into temptation”? That has been a pretty standard translation of Jesus’s words over the centuries. Until I read a few commentaries on this passage, I was at a loss to understand it. How could a loving God ever be understood to entertain the idea of seducing us to commit evil? Is that not what the passage implies—imploring our Father not to take us by the hand and drag us into a place where we will sin? Please! However, it turns out that another slant on that petition is “save us from the time of trial [it’s in our BCP],” and “do not bring us to the test.” Here we see two striking differences: the first asks him to rescue us from something or else don’t cause us to approach it. The second [a bit obtuse, I’d say] requests him to permit us to walk through, or maybe to guide us through, that something which has the potential to leave us stronger if we survive it. These alternative interpretations lead one to look upon testing as a productive venture for our character development. Is that what our Lord really means?
Regardless of how we read this request, we’ve just asked God for his will to be done, so if we beg not to arrange for us to be tested, isn’t that either a cowardly or an untrusting attitude? Lots to ponder in that line of the old familiar prayer!

Predestination

In the Book of Common Prayer, on page 871, in the Articles of Religion of the Protestant Episcopal Church, USA, adopted on
12 September 1801, there is an explanation of Predestination to Life, to wit: “The everlasting purpose of God whereby He hath constantly decreed by his counsel secret to us, to deliver from curse and damnation those whom he has chosen in Christ out of mankind, and to bring them by Christ to everlasting salvation, as vessels made to honour.” In contrast, the Calvinist definition of predestination is the concept that “everything is freely and unchangeably ordained whatsoever comes to pass.” [The Anglican terminology of that definition is “double predestination,” which seems reasonable enough.]
It’s hard to conceive that God has ordained everything that I do, because that challenges the Biblical notion that we have free will. Is our God really deceptive enough to let us believe that we only THINK that our free will decisions originate in our brains, when in actuality He’s already decided what we’ll do? The closest I can get to that is Paul’s wonderful passage in Philippians that “He is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure [2:13]. I interpret this to mean that if I love him enough, and strive to make my mind conform to his, He will inspire me to do his will. That, to me, is a far cry from ordaining what I do!

Three Styles of Leadership

I recently heard a sermon on the three basic styles of authority which stem from the three basic styles of leadership.
The first is from the top down, that of a creator and manager who knows what’s best and directs us—vertical. Examples: corporations, the Armed Services.
The second is being governed by the opinion of the governed, by either vote or consensus—horizontal. Examples: a democracy, a Vestry.
The third overarches the first two and makes them irrelevant; it’s the authority of justice and compassion. This is the authority by which God will inspire us to think and act IF WE LET HIM. [See Phil. 2:13]. This is the new commandment Jesus gave us—to love each other AS HE LOVES US. This is the one which we need to pray to understand, since it may not always occur to us automatically to let it govern our lives. This is the one wherein we let our minds grow into the likeness of our Lord. This is the one of which we and the whole world are in such desperate need!

"AS"

Almost every time I pray the Lord’s Prayer, my head gets stuck on that tiny two-letter word “as.” Let me explain. When we ask him to forgive us our trespasses [sins] AS we forgive those who trespass [sin] against us, what are we really asking—or, more precisely, what did Jesus direct us to ask? It seems important to understand this in order to establish the parameters of our being forgiven. (1) Did He mean “because” we forgive others? [the assumption is that we automatically do, that it’s a given—we proclaim that we always do that as a matter of course, and we jolly well better, or we won’t be forgiven at all!]. (2) Did He mean “to the extent that” we forgive others, implying that we can be partially forgiven—a wee bit or a whole lot, it’s up to us—depending upon how much we forgive how many trespasses? (3) Or are we saying that “when” or “after” we forgive others, we can lay claim on God’s promise of forgiveness—but until we do, we remain in a state of being unforgiven? I still don’t always offer instant forgiveness for perceived harms, but when I do forgive, it’s unreservedly, so I suspect that #3 is most accurate. What do you think that “as” means?

A Vision

Even though I am sure that I have recognized God’s voice in my spirit many times, I am not generally given to flights of fancy, visions, nor supernatural utterances. However, many years ago I was kneeling at a long altar where, at the climax of a four-day renewal conference, dozens of us attendees were receiving the Eucharist. I detected the fragrance of roses in the air, and when my gaze landed upon the large crucifix, I spied the source: someone had draped garlands of those sweet blossoms around Jesus’s shoulders. I was entranced, since He is sometimes referred to as the Rose of Sharon. Then a most unusual sight greeted me: as I stared up at his lifeless form, each rosebud seemed to turn into a drop of blood which dripped, dripped, dripped down his torso. In my spirit I screamed to him, “My Lord, how could you subject yourself to this torture?” And I heard him reply, “Because my Father asked me to.”
When I don’t understand why I must go through grueling times, when I suffer seemingly senseless trials, I remember that day, the situation becomes tolerable, and the burden lightens.

Three Words

Hallow: This means to make holy, to consecrate. However, this word is traditionally used only to describe God’s name. It means more than just holy, but maximally, ineffably, supernaturally, indescribably holy. God hinted at this in Genesis, when He told Abraham that his name was “YHWH—I Am Who I Am.” Come the questions: when He instructed us to intone “Hallowed be thy name” as we pray to him, did He mean for us to tell him what He already knows, assure him that we know it, or remind ourselves? And if we really believe it, how dare we use that hallowed name casually or blasphemously? Ever??
Bless: This also means to consecrate, make holy. But it also can signify to declare separate unto God, or to make happy [in the Jerusalem Bible translation, the beatitudes read “happy” in place of “blessed.”], or to bestow good upon, or to make worthy of admiration, and even to protect from evil.
What a state to be in! Being blessed, however we interpret it, means being favored by God, which is sounds suspiciously like being in a state of grace. More questions: doesn’t God always bless those of us who call ourselves Christians? Why do we “bless” someone? Isn’t it only God who can accomplish this? And after a sneeze, does a perfunctory “God bless you” exhort God so to do, or remind us that He always has and does, or simply to extend sympathy to someone who needs it? [That makes it no more powerful or meaningful than the German “gesundheit,” which translates ‘to your health”]. As for me, looking over my life to date, I am the most blessed man I know, no matter how you read it!
Goodbye: This is an Old English contraction of “God be with ye.” If you think about this, it has pretty powerful implications: are we important enough to the grand Architect of the Universe that He would actually “be” with us? Again, is this a request of God, or a reminder to us that He is—always? And if He is, isn’t that fact an automatic blessing?
I’m afraid that I’m apt to toss these familiar words about in a cavalier fashion, without keeping in mind the power, the otherness, and the glory of him to whom they refer. Are you?

Maturing

There are five challenging sentences buried in St. Paul’s immortal dissertation on love in I Cor 13:10- 12 [NIV]:
1. When perfection comes, the imperfect disappears.
2. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child.
3. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.
4. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.
5. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
Sentences one, four, and five reïnforce my interpretation of this famous quote, which is that we will acquire a clearer vision of ourselves, and God, and our relationship to him, after we pass over to the afterlife. However, the writer of a recent entry in Forward Day-by-Day took the stance that in these famous statements St. Paul is inferring that these things will transpire here on earth as we mature in knowing ourselves better. St. Teresa of Avila agreed, explaining it this way: “The journey into God begins in self-knowledge.” These writers insist that it is only as we get to know our real selves more honestly that we can hope to know God more fully.
As I reflect on my spiritual journey over the last three-quarters of a century, I must admit that the years of therapy, 12-Step meetings, composing and giving teachings for retreats and spiritual growth groups, examining thousands of sermons, and hard emotional work—all these stimulated my interest in, study of, and intimacy with my Father as He comes to me in his Son.
Is this coïncidence? Was I pursuing both endeavors simultaneously independent of each other, or were they inevitably connected? To which did St. Paul refer—the here or the hereafter—or was it both?
Of one thing I am convinced: without my continuing to grow in my relationship with Jesus, my life would wither into uselessness and meaninglessness as I become older. How grateful I am that we have so many opportunities for this progress, each on his own path.

Prayer vs. Command

My understanding of the reason for prayer, in addition to worshipping God and thanking him, is to bring us into his presence, to conform our will to his, to petition him on our behalf or others’. But if you read some of the prayers in our Episcopal Book of Common Prayer with an analytical and critical eye, or listen to folks as they pray aloud, it sounds as though we’re commanding him to do our will. “Heal...!” “Give us...!” “Lead us...!” “Bless...!” “Make...!” The words seem to convey that we’re trying to order the Great Architect of the Universe to perform—to conform —to our specifications. Do we regard God as a marionette, and consider ourselves puppeteers who can get God to do what we want, not by moving our hands, but by simply opening our mouths? Are we so arrogant as to believe that we can change his mind?
On the other hand, does He really change the natural course of events—even cause miracles to happen—in response to our heartfelt utterances? Well-documented spiritual healings and otherwise unexplainable changes in physical circumstances seem to support this. Would these things have happened anyway??
Centuries of theologians have pondered these questions; I suspect each of us must come to his own understanding of prayer. No matter how or why God answers our prayer, even if He says “No” or “Wait,” the fact that He does cannot be doubted. I suppose the most convincing reason that we should pray is that He told us to. He never guaranteed which results would transpire, only that they would conform to his will. Our job is simply to pray!

Epiphany

We’re in Epiphany, the season when we celebrate “showing forth,” telling others about Jesus. The question: celebrate it—or do it? Is it enough to recognize the season in the church year on a few Sundays? To act generally benign toward others, sort of “his life would make no sense if there were no God”? Or am I to trudge the countryside and city streets, handing out tracts and “proclaiming” the good news? Remember the last few verses of the gospel according to St. Matthew, where Jesus himself, not Paul or any other chronicler, enjoins us to spread the word? [Never mind that these verses were added years after the rest of the book, they’ve still been considered part of the Word for many centuries.] So where does that leave mes—how AM I to do this proclaiming, anyhow? Do I wear a cross? Ask out loud “What would Jesus do?” at every opportunity? Plaster a “Honk if you love Jesus” bumper sticker on my car? Do I bring him into every conversation? Is it enough to do nice things for people without expecting thanks, let alone recognition? Need I volunteer on Church committees? How does his “Great Commission” translate into what He expects of me, flowing out of my love for him as a response for his love for me? How? How?

The Eucharist

Eucharist [meaning “Thanksgiving,” and also known as “Holy Communion,” “Mass,” and “The Lord’s Supper”] is recognized as the central act of worship in the Episcopal/Anglican liturgy, as well as that of our mother church, Roman Catholic, and its affiliated orthodox branches. Have you ever considered these words from the various approved forms for the consecration of the elements in our Book of Common Prayer?
A. “Sanctify them by your Holy Spirit to be for your people the Body and Blood of your Son, the holy food and drink of new and unending life in him.” [p. 363]
B. “Send your Holy Spirit upon these gifts that they may be the Sacrament of the Body of Christ and his Blood of the new Covenant.” [p. 369]
C. “Sanctify them by your Holy Spirit to be the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ our Lord.” [p. 371]
D. “We pray that your Holy Spirit may descend upon us and upon these gifts, sanctifying them and showing them to be holy gifts for your holy people, the bread of life and the cup of salvation, the Body and Blood of your Son Jesus Christ.” [p. 375]
E. “Vouchsafe to bless and sanctify, with thy Word and Holy Spirit, these thy gifts and creatures of bread and wine, that we…may be partakers of his most blessed Body and Blood.” [p. 335]
F. “Sanctify them by your Holy Spirit to be for your people the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ our Lord.” [p. 403]
G. “Send your Holy Spirit upon these gifts. Let them be for us the Body and Blood of your Son.” [p. 405]
Are the differences in the wording significant? Are the elements MOLECULARLY changed [see B & C], or SPIRITUALLY changed, or is their SIGNIFICANCE changed]? And did He mean for everyone [see B], for all Christians [see A, D, & F], or just for those gathered [see E & G]? What did He mean by “EACH TIME you do this, do it in for the remembrance of me”—each Passover, each holy day, each supper, each meal, or each Thursday? Is the Eucharist a simple memorial—a chance to remember him [as the words suggest]—or is it more? How much more? What do YOU believe? And finally, the real question: how critical are these considerations to understanding our faith?

Proclaiming the Good News

When we get to Epiphany, the season when we celebrate “showing forth”—telling others about Jesus—comes the question: celebrate it, or do it? Is it enough to recognize the season in the church year on a few Sundays? To act generally benign toward others, sort of “his life would make no sense if there were no God”? Or am I to trudge the countryside and city streets, handing out tracts and “proclaiming” the good news? Remember the last few verses of the gospel according to St. Matthew, where Jesus himself, not Paul or any other chronicler, enjoins us to spread the word? [Never mind that these verses were added years after the rest of the book, they’ve still been considered part of the Word for many centuries.] So where does that leave mes—how AM I to do this proclaiming, anyhow? Do I wear a cross? Ask out loud “What would Jesus do?” at every opportunity? Plaster a “Honk if you love Jesus” bumper sticker on my car? Do I bring him into every conversation? Is it enough to do nice things for people without expecting thanks, let alone recognition? Need I volunteer on Church committees? How does his “Great Commission” translate into what He expects of me, flowing out of my love for him as a response for his love for me? How? How?